


Freudian slips

by orphan_account



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Jason Blossom cannot hide anything, Polly pretends to be oblivious, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 23:58:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Freudian slip - noun(in Freudian psychology) an inadvertent mistake in speech or writing that is thought to reveal a person's unconscious motives, wishes, or attitudes.OR: 3 times Jason almost revealed his relationship with Cheryl.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I am, for some reason, really into Blossomcest. I wanted to write a crack fic for them since there's almost nothing about them in the tag (only 6 fics), because I feel like all of their fics are hella serious, even though I love them all to death. I also wanted to try writing something new, so here goes nothing. I'm gonna say this again: I know no real person is as obvious as Jason is in the story, but I love messing around with his character, especially since Cheryl, at least in the show, has 0 subtlety. He IS her twin, after all. Anyway, read and comment below! Hope you enjoy this.

_I_

 

The small, cramped room of Polly Cooper is the only place where they could possibly be doing this, but it doesn’t really matter anyway.

Jason could live without Polly’s blowjobs, yes, but what teen in their right mind denies sex? Exactly.

And yes, he _does_ have to somehow cover up all the shit that flowed past his mouth in the last months, shit that could possibly lead to his …thing with Cheryl. He also has to cover it up in a way that doesn’t make him seem gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, in Jason’s mind (well he doesn’t really have the right to judge anyway, given his circumstances), but the jocks are pretty damn homophobic, and his parents are, too.

So the only logical thing that could happen was him starting to eventually date girls. It just so happened that poor Polly fell into this mess. And he can’t really say he doesn’t like her. He does. Just not in the way she wants him to. But the Blossoms have been, and will always be, the Monarchs of Putting An Act On. He pretends. He holds her hands and he takes her to nice dinners. He even makes up for slut shaming her in that book. People should be proud of him. The Academy should seriously consider giving him an Oscar, JLaw’s nothing compared to his performance.

Jason knows that he may as well be a douche to Polly. She would probably still trail after him like a love stricken puppy. But he doesn’t have the heart to do this. Curse him and his pure heart. It isn’t Polly’s fault that he’s all caught up with his own sister. She’s just the unlucky victim who has to help him bear his own cross. He can at least give her the joy of a false teenage love illusion, if he’s going to use her as a cover up.

Yes, he sometimes…forgets himself and starts rambling about how much he loves Cheryl and yes, Polly gives him strange looks but so far she is oblivious. She, by some kind of divine miracle, doesn’t suspect anything.

It’s a good thing, really, that he’s now dating her. He threads his fingers into her ging—blonde locks and tugs, wandering farther into his mind and going on one of his many God I Fucked Up That One Time trips.

 

 

_“Man, J, I gotta say, your sister’s **really** hot.” Reggie grins, sprawled in a bean bag chair._

_“Yeah, I know.” Jason says, lips curling upwards in a soft, condescending smirk. **If only he knew**._

_“I kinda want to fuck her.” Reggie muses, having the decency to look into his drink instead of into Jason’s eyes._

_“Huh, same.” Jason can’t help but mutter under his breath. He realizes his mistake a second too late._

_“Did you say something?”_

_“No.”_

_And they pretend it never happened._

“You’re not into it.” Polly sighs.

“What? ‘Course I’m into it, babe.” He smiles down at Polly.

“No, you’re not. Something on your mind?” Polly frowns and pulls her hair free of its ponytail, fluffing it up.

“Uh, practice got me…tired?” He flashes a charming smile and hopes to win her trust, as he threads a hand through his red hair nervously. Polly doesn’t say anything, just keeps on looking at him as he gets up from the bed and crosses the room, to his backpack. He puts his varsity jacket back on and toys with the car keys a little bit before opening his mouth to speak.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you.” He doesn’t say when, because he never knows how long he can pull this off. He’s feeling terribly guilty about lying to her like this, especially since Polly truly seems like a nice girl. He doesn’t know when he’s finally going to find a reason to break up with her, but he hopes he will soon. As much as he tries, he can’t truly love the Cooper girl. And he never will. Not like she deserves.

 

_II_

 

The next time it happens, they’re in a clothing store. Jason doesn’t really get why girls love trying clothes on so much. Is it really that much of a rewarding feeling, putting on different fabrics and gazing at their price and contemplating if they look good on you, or if they are worth the money, or if you should buy the red one or the blue one? (Cheryl would always choose the red article, but it seems like Polly has the opposite tastes.)

He takes a good look at the entirety of the store, sweeping his gaze over the multitude of short skirts and fluffy sweaters, before his eyes land on the lingerie department. He smirks, remembering events of past nights spent at the Thornhill Manor.

Polly takes a B-cup bra in her hands, and gazes with wonder at the baby blue lace on its edges. Jason huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. _Amateur,_ he thinks.

“You know, it would be way sexier if it was like…red or black.” He says, feeling like he must, at least for himself, make a reference to Cheryl’s amazing panties. _God, that lingerie._

“Cher’s got a lot of those. She bought them from designer clothing lines, of course.” He proudly says, not quite aware of how this sounds.

“Does she…look good in them?” Polly inquires, playing along and raising her eyebrows jokingly. She expects a reaction of disgust accompanied by an _‘ew that’s my sister?!’_ , but what she actually gets is a lot more different.

“Hell yeah. Really good.” He says a little too wistfully, not even looking her in the eye.

Polly likes to pretend it was a joke.

 

_III_

His third Freudian slip happens like this:

 _How have they even gotten here? And why the hell isn’t he wearing protection?_ Those are legit questions. The second one, especially, is something that Jason should’ve asked himself earlier, when Polly started insisting that they do it without a condom on. And he thought, “screw it” and proceeded, praying to God that she’ll be able to get pills the next morning (spoiler alert: she didn’t) and that nothing bad would come out of tonight (spoiler alert: it did).

As for now, Polly is straddling his hips, going up, going down, up, and then sinking down again. Repeat. Jason tries his best to stay focused and remember his surroundings, really he does. The poor guy does his best. He even gets a little into it, if he’s being honest.

“Mm, Cher that’s—so good, babe.” He moans out just as he spills himself into her.

“ _What_ did you just say!?” Polly screeches, her eyes throwing daggers at him.

A moment of silence.

However, fifteen seconds have passed and she isn’t crying yet which, coming from her, is a delayed action. The Cooper sisters seem to embrace letting tears flow out of you like rivers, in favor of actually dealing with your emotions. Well, at least Polly does. Or so he had noticed.

“What?” He plays dumb.

“You called me Cheryl, you—you dick!” She spits out angrily and, given the situation, he actually wonders how come she didn’t slap him yet.

“No, I didn’t. You’re just distracted.” He frowns, buckling up his belt.

He feels truly bad afterwards. What if Cheryl would have called out—say, Reggie’s name—while they were going at it? He doesn’t even like thinking of it, much less picturing his reaction. Of course, he would never hit Cher, his darling Cher, but still. God, he’s such a bastard.

He tells himself that, as soon as she calms down, he’ll break up with her. It is, after all, the fair thing to do.

 

Little does he know, shit is about to get really bad.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to Hell.


End file.
